


Just remember you will always burn as bright

by Beleriandings



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Akatsuki no Yona Secret Santa 2016, Character Study, Drabble Series, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, fluff and angst and everything in between, zeno hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: Zeno, over the years, and the people along the way.





	1. Hiryuu

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Secret Santa gift for @helpicaughttheweeb on tumblr, who asked for Zeno + any other character. So, unable to decide, I went for Zeno + EVERY other character (or most of the major ones who interact with him at least!)
> 
> Anyway, happy holidays from me and I hope you enjoy these (loosely related) snapshots of that Zeno hell we all know and love <3

“Zeno, look out!”

Zeno whirled around, the battlefield passing before his eyes in a haze of red and brown, bright-glinting steel and the cries of dying men. A fraction of an instant later, he caught sight of the man in his peripheral vision, a bloodied sword held in one heavy hand as he loomed over him. Zeno stumbled back, only to trip over something - was it a body? No, he didn’t want to think about that, couldn’t afford to think of that now, lest he fall to pieces - and was sent sprawling on his back, the breath knocked out of him as he hit the ground.

And all the while the sword was coming closer, moments seeming to stretch to long eternities while the bright steel closed in.

Then suddenly there was red, filling his field of view. At first, Zeno’s stunned mind screamed that he had been cut, that it was his blood spurting out before him, soon to drain his life away into the dust like all these others. But then his senses caught up, and he realised it was a fall of bright hair, caught in the wind and streaming out like the banners that followed them.

The red hair of his king, who had just leapt in front of him, sword clashing with that of the man who had been about to attack Zeno. Hiryuu whirled around, parrying the soldier’s savage blow to his side, ducking and dodging and striking with his quick, deadly thrusts. A moment later he was fighting two at once, another coming from the left even as Zeno watched. Hiryuu moved with a fluid grace that was always greater than Zeno remembered, that always surprised him no matter how many times he saw the king fight. It was almost, he had thought once, as though Hiryuu were dancing; perhaps for him - for a man so lately a god - there was no difference at all.

Not that Zeno was thinking such things now, of course; now his mind was still too shocked, still reeling slightly from the surprise attack. Yet he managed to get to his feet, picking up a sword that had fallen to the ground. It was too big for him, made for a much taller and stronger man than Zeno, but he held it up as Hiryuu fought, the two of them now back to back.

Which is why Zeno only heard the cry of pain, at first, the ragged gasp making him turn in horror, seeing blood, those whose blood it was he did not know. There were soldiers closing in around them, men sworn to fight against King Hiryuu, to spill his blood and that of any who served him; Zeno gritted his teeth, curling his fingers around the hilt of the sword, panic beginning to make his heart flutter and his mind blur.

But before he could even fully make sense of what had happened, the enemy soldiers all around them were falling, twitching and writhing to the ground. One of them fell on top of him, crushing him down to the earth once again. He couldn’t move, he could barely breath, and time seemed to stop, his ears ringing with the impact.

And shouldn’t he be in pain? It had hurt at first, but now he just felt empty, his senses cut off. Shouldn’t the weight of the falling man in full armour have crushed him, or at the very least have knocked him unconscious?

Zeno was never sure how much time had passed, but some time later, he felt the crushing weight of the dead man lifted off him, his own body lifted by strong arms. For a second he struggled, until he realised it was Guen, picking him up effortlessly from under Zeno’s arms and setting him on his feet. A moment later Shuten dropped out of the sky beside him, Abi’s semi-conscious form cradled in his arms.

“Where is he? Did you find Ouryuu and the King?”

“I found Ouryuu” said Guen, frowning and staring around, worry in his face. “But not - ”

“I’m here!” came a muffled voice, and after a moment, Guen was there, helping to haul a dead body from off the king’s chest where he lay on the ground a little way off. “Ah, Guen. Is Zeno alright?”

“He’s…”

“I’m fine!” said Zeno, relief washing over him.

“Good, and the rest of my dragons too, perfect!” came the King’s voice, as Guen helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily against Guen’s arm. “Ah… but I think… I might need a little help to walk back to the camp…”

 

“You’re not in too much pain are you, my King?” asked Zeno, as he carefully poured the tea into two cups.

“No, not much at all, thank you Zeno” said Hiryuu, with a lightness that belied the deep cut from the blade that had caught him behind the knee, where his armour joined. “In fact, I am told that I am healing well; the wound was clean, and it was tended well.” Hiryuu smiled distantly. “I do rather dread the lecture about taking unnecessary risks that Guen will give me though, but he only does it out of love. I am afraid I have upset him though.” Hiryuu accepted the cup of tea with a gesture of thanks. “But the main thing is that you are safe, Zeno.”

Zeno was silent for a long moment, his hand going instinctively to the golden medallion that the king had given him, that he never took from around his neck.

“Zeno?” Gently, Hiryuu laid a finger under his chin and tilted his head up, so that Zeno had to meet his gaze. “You are alright… aren’t you?”

“I…” Zeno swallowed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt!” he burst out, at last.

“Why, of course not.” Hiryuu tilted his head quizzically. “You four dragons were given powers in order to protect me, so it’s only natural that you should want to see me safe.”

“No!” Zeno continued, his mouth dry suddenly, even as his eyes began to well with tears. “It’s… it’s not just that, my king!”

Hiryuu’s brows drew together at the sight of his tears. “Oh… then what is it, Zeno?”

“You…” Zeno sniffed. “Guen and the others told me what happened. They said that you fought to save me, several men at once, and that was how you got wounded.”

“Yes, a slight oversight on my part…”

“My King…. you were fighting to protect me!”

“Yes, I was” said Hiryuu calmly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You shouldn’t be doing that!” said Zeno, his voice tearing. “You shouldn’t be taking such risks, without the others around. You don’t have any powers that could save you…”

“…Nor do you, Zeno.”

Had he imagined the king’s split second’s hesitation? “I know!” Zeno said, clasping his hands together. “But you’re… you’re… more important!”

Hiryuu’s eyes widened. “No I’m not!”

Zeno blinked. “What? But you’re… you’re the King! You’re a god, in human form! Of course you’re more important! I’m just… I’m just…”

“A human” said Hiryuu. There was something behind his eyes, a touch of sadness or nostalgia. “And you are just as important as I am.” The way he said it was perfectly calm, with no room for debate.

“B-but…” stammered Zeno, caught off guard. “But the dragon gods…”

“I know the dragon gods better than anyone” said Hiryuu gently, his eyes soft and far away suddenly, though not regretful. “And I know… I know that they don’t understand humans well.” Before Zeno could protest, Hiryuu smiled brilliantly once more. “It has always been my wish to understand humans a little better, and at least I understand this. You are important, every single one of you.” He laid a light finger on the gold of the medallion. “Powers or none. So please, Zeno, don’t ever think that you’re not.”

Slowly, Zeno nodded. “But still, my King… I am still charged with protecting you! I want to protect you!”

Hiryuu smiled, then. “Alright, well, how about a compromise?”

“Hmm?”

“How about… we say that we will protect each other?”

Zeno smiled too, at that. “….Yes, my King. Yes, we could do that.”


	2. Shuten

Zeno kicked his feet on the dusty ground, walking in circles and stretching muscles that ached from riding since dawn. All around them, the camp was being set up, tents poles clattering and men shouting, fires being lit, soldiers feeding their horses or passing around baskets of provisions. It was evening, but it was not dark yet; the sunset had not even begun to paint its brilliant colours across the sky, the warm air of a fine summer day fragrant around them and the light still bright and warm.

It seemed to match well with the mood of the soldiers, thought Zeno, as he walked at a leisurely pace through the camp. Then again, that was to be expected when they were returning from a great victory - two victories in fact, the first military, the second diplomatic - at the northern border, and when they had the king himself, as well as all four dragon warriors, in their midst.

Zeno could see the king, even at this distance; Hiryuu was talking animatedly to several of the commanders of his force of cavalry as he took off his helmet and shook free his river of red hair, apparently utterly at ease and smiling with that effortless, genuine charm he had in abundance.

Abi was at his side, Zeno both saw and felt with his sense of the other dragons. His arms were folded and he was tapping a foot on the ground a little impatiently, gaze directed over one shoulder; he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the king’s conversation. Out of curiosity, Zeno reached out, feeling for the other two bright points in his mind in the way that he had become accustomed to; it was almost a reflex now to seek for that reassuring touch. The green was farther off than he had expected - _he had really travelled so far away in the few minutes since they had stopped?_ \- but the white, he realised, was right behind him.

“Hey kid! There you are!”

“Hakuryuu!” Zeno smiled as, sure enough, he felt a heavy, scaled hand on his shoulder and turned to see Guen, frowning down at him. “Have you seen Ryokuryuu?’

“I was about to ask you the same thing” said Guen, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Zeno, I need to speak to the king. Please could you find him, wherever he’s wandered off to?”

Zeno nodded. “We can’t let him miss dinner!”

But Guen had turned away already. So, Zeno reached out to the sense he had of Shuten once more, following the bright green light in his head to the edge of the camp where the trees began, a small bright grove of fruit trees. They grew taller the further he went from the camp, their trunks and canopies thicker.

“Ryokuryuu?” called out Zeno doubtfully, after he’d walked some way, the sounds of the camp fading behind him. He felt as though Shuten was very near, but he couldn’t see him, even in the clear light of the long evening. He frowned, wishing he had Abi’s eyesight as he turned in a full circle.

He was just about to call out again, when he yelped in alarm, as something fell on the top of his head. It bounced down to the ground, rolling to a standstill a little way away, and when Zeno bent down curiously, he saw that it was a pear, large and soft and yellow.

Zeno’s head snapped backwards to peer up into the branches above his head, where he saw a familiar face laughing softly at him with a sharp-toothed smile.

“Lesson one, kid” said Shuten, drumming his fingers against the bark of the tree’s trunk. “Always look up.”

“Ryokuryuu!” Zeno put his hands on his hips, slightly annoyed now. “Hakuryuu sent me looking for you.” He paused, suddenly a little anxious. “Were you thinking of disappearing on us again?”

Shuten ruffled his hair. “Zeno, Zeno. What an accusation, I’m almost hurt.”

“You haven’t denied it.” His words were mostly playful, but part of him still grew a little nervous each time Shuten went off on his own, as he so often did.

 _“Would_ I do that?”

Zeno bit his lip. “I hoped not.”

Shuten laughed unconcernedly, jumping from his high branch to land lightly in front of Zeno. On his back, Zeno noticed now, he carried his cloak wrapped up in a heavy bundle around something. Shuten eased it off his back, and placed it in Zeno’s arms, opening a corner so that Zeno could see inside; it was full of perfectly ripe, yellow pears. “Don’t worry, kid…” Shuten took a pear, biting into it with a grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	3. Guen

Zeno peered out from beneath the heavy rim of his too-large helmet. “Guen, this is silly! There’s no need for this!”

Guen folded his arms. “You were never taught to fight as a child, you say. But now you’ve sworn to fight to protect the king! And you don’t even have any powers to help you.”

“But I’ll always have you and Seiryuu and Ryokuryuu to protect me on the battlefield!”

A flicker of anxiety passed over Guen’s otherwise impassive face. “You don’t know that. We won’t necessarily… always be there to save you.”

Zeno swallowed, shifting the wooden sword from hand to hand. “Yes you will!” He tried for a smile, though with the helmet slipping down over his eyes he didn’t think that Guen could see much of it. “Right?” he poked Guen playfully in the chest with the tip of the wooden sword. “Hakuryuu and Seiryuu and Ryokuryuu will always be there to protect Ouryuu and the King!”

“I hope that is true” said Guen, grimly. “But there’s always the possibility of something going wrong, of…” he shook his head, fingers flickering unconsciously over the armour covering his shoulder, checking the straps. “You weren’t there to see it yet, but… there was a time, early on, when our king’s campaign was… going badly. Not many had rallied to his cause yet. He didn’t have any of us. Now, he does, but…” Guen shook his head. “I don’t think it will ever be like that again. But even though the king has built a new country, peace is still far away. There will be fighting.” Guen clenched his dragon hand into a fist. “So far, you’ve survived by luck and by having us to help you. But if you can’t even swing a sword, that won’t last.” He frowned, at Zeno’s feigned sounds of indignation. “Zeno, I’m being serious here.” He knelt down so that he was just below Zeno’s eye level, and took Zeno’s hands in his; dragon scales rasped against Zeno’s skin, making him drop his wooden sword. There was no danger though; Zeno knew that Guen would never let his claws slip and cut Zeno’s skin, and Zeno trusted him absolutely.

Guen met his eyes. “Zeno, I have not known you for long, and I admit I still don’t… quite understand why you accepted the dragon’s blood, if you never wanted to fight. I don’t understand why the gods didn’t give you a power like mine, either. But I _do_ believe in our connection, that we are brothers now. And I…” he looked deep into Zeno’s eyes. “I would never, ever let one of my brothers be hurt, not if there is anything I can do to stop it. So please, Zeno…” Guen smiled. “Please learn at least the basics of swordsmanship. To defend yourself, for me if not for you. And… for our king, who needs us.”

Zeno sighed, the heavy practice armour and helmet weighing on him still. Gently, he extricated his hands from Guen’s grip, bending down and picking up his dropped wooden sword. “All right, Hakuryuu. Let’s begin.”


	4. Abi

The day had crawled towards evening and it had become dark around him without Zeno’s notice, by the time Abi stirred from sleep.

Zeno’s head snapped up at the sound - he had been half dozing himself, his head drooping to his chest even as his troubled thoughts began to mingle with storm-tossed dreams - to see Abi’s eyelids quiver, then spring open, mouth opening with a tiny, weak whimper.

“Abi!” Zeno gasped, stumbling to Abi’s bedside to light the lamp. The flame flared into life, making Abi narrow his eyes again with a quiet groan. “Oh! Sorry!” Zeno frowned, cursing his own stupidity. Always when he woke after using his power, Abi was oversensitive to light; Zeno really should not have forgotten. He set the filigreed shade over the lantern, dropping the room into a dull half-light.

“Abi?”

Zeno felt a flicker of nervousness as Abi’s head tilted minutely to the side, to peer at him with eyes still narrowed, even against the dim light.

Zeno swallowed, his mind unspooling possibilities, each worse than the last. None of them knew what had happened to Abi in that cave, what the kidnappers had done to him; he had been unconscious when Guen and Shuten had found him, bleeding from an ugly gash on his head and a stab wound in his side, rope burns at his wrist and a hundred small cuts and bruises marring Abi’s pale skin. But none of those wounds were the reason why he had fallen. They didn’t even need the court doctor to tell them so. The bodies that Guen and Shuten had seen lying broken and distorted all around Abi had told them as much; Abi had used his power there, while injured, and it had left him falling unconscious to bleed on the muddy ground until the others found him after who knew how long.

That was all Zeno knew; he had thought at first that that was all _anyone_ knew, but now he suspected that Guen and Shuten might be holding information back, perhaps to protect him.

Well, it wasn’t as though Zeno himself didn’t keep secrets.

Still, it didn’t matter; all that mattered now was Abi. The doctors had looked him over, cleaned and bandaged his wounds, and given him a strong herbal mixture to ease the pain. Whether it was that or the blind oblivion that came after Abi used his power, Zeno didn’t know, but the fact remained that now Abi had not woken in three days, a nurse coming in sometimes to change his bandages. The nurse would have also dropped honey water onto his tongue, but Zeno had offered to do that himself, to pass the time and to at least feel as though he was helping. Guen and Shuten came too, several times a day, when Abi and Zeno’s duties around the palace that they had divided amongst themselves along with their own allowed it. But so far there had been no change, Abi remaining lost in whatever dark dreams danced in his mind as he slept.

Until now.

As Abi opened his eyes a crack once more, there was a flutter of red and green feathers from the rafters above and the songbird who never left Abi’s side fluttered down to perch on the bedpost.

“Look, Abi!” said Zeno. “Jinju is glad to see you awake! And so am I.”

Abi looked up, his eyes lighting on the tiny bird, who let out a melodic cry. _That’s good, at least Abi can focus on something_ , Zeno thought, though Abi’s eyes were alarmingly bloodshot now that he had opened them. _What had happened to him?_

Zeno had been expecting Abi to sit up then, perhaps to smile; Jinju was his closest companion, hardly ever leaving his side. But Zeno’s heart sank when Abi began to cry silently instead, listless tears welling in his eyes and rolling soundlessly down his cheeks, the red markings of the dragon as dark as blood on his pallid skin in the dim lamplight.

“Abi!” Zeno’s throat felt dry suddenly, a lump where his voice should have been. “Abi, you’re awake!”

“Zeno” whispered Abi, voice hoarse and small through the tears. “I… I….” he seemed unable to say more, and made no motion to do anything else until Zeno helped him to sit up, clumsily pouring a cup of water from the ewer on the stand by the bed, spilling a little in his haste as he offered it to Abi. Abi drank, Jinju fluttering nervously about their heads, shadow cast large and flickering against the walls. When she perched on Abi’s shoulder though, Abi barely reacted, his eyes still horribly listless as Zeno held his arm for support.

“Are… are in pain?” asked Zeno, tentatively. “Should I call for…”

But he tailed off, seeing Abi shaking his head, squeezing his eyes closed once more and dropping his head forward, so that his hair fell over his face. “Zeno…” Abi murmured, through gritted teeth, and Zeno felt fingers tighten, bunching in the fabric of his own sleeve. Zeno held Abi closer as he felt him tremble with silent tears, face hidden now in Zeno’s chest. “It hurts… and I can’t… I can’t use it… what I did…”

“Hush” he stroked Abi’s hair as Jinju took wing again, fluttering over to land on Zeno’s shoulder. “Shhh, it’s alright now, Abi. You’re safe. The others went to get you, you’re back at the palace. See? You’re safe now, and you’re healing.” He leaned in closer, hugging Abi tightly. “Whatever happened before… everything will be alright, Seiryuu.” _Except it won’t be_ , said a small voice in the back of his head. _King Hiryuu is dead; you’ve known since then that nothing would ever be the same again. Abi knows that too_.

Sure enough, at Zeno’s words Abi only cried harder, sobs swallowed and muffled by the fabric of Zeno’s clothes nevertheless making Abi’s slim shoulders shudder violently, and in that moment, Zeno had no idea at all of what to say or do. So instead he just held onto Abi, blue hair tickling his cheek as the lantern flickered, sending distorted shadows to twist and dance on the walls.


	5. Kaya

Zeno looked into Kaya’s face, trying to read any minute hint of an expression to tell him how she was taking the news he had just imparted. In his head, he had run through so many ways that he could tell her - _finally_ \- but this had certainly not been one of them. In his mind when he lay in the darkness listening to Kaya’s breaths, the only sound in the silence - _and yes, sometimes he counted them, could not sleep until their rhythm lulled him_ \- he had thought of ways to break it to her; his past, his power, who he really was. Speeches unfolded in his mind, he braced for her horror, accusations of betrayal for keeping it from her for so long. Sometimes, on the very dark nights, he had seriously considered never telling her at all, but the thought was like cold steel in his chest, an aching, singing pain. No, he had to tell her somehow, and after all, he was running out of time.

But he had never planned _this_.

He had never planned for the knife to slip in his hand as he laughed at a story Kaya told him, distracted. The two of them had been cutting willow branches to make baskets side-by-side on the grass outside the house, under the warm light of a summer evening. He never planned to drop his guard and let her see his blood spill as the blade cut down into the ball of his thumb and to his wrist, slicing deep, his hand spasming as it hit a tendon. The blood spurted a little when the knife cleared the cut, immediately staining the front of his tunic.

He had never planned for Kaya to have to watch, wide-eyed and speechless, as the cut instantly closed over as though it had never been, and he had certainly never planned to hold her while she hugged him very close and tight, her whole body trembling in his arms, his blood staining both of their clothes now.

But, given that all of that had happened, the story had to follow, as inevitably as night follows day.

Zeno winced. Telling her had been comparatively easy, given all that; this next part might not be. He peered at her apprehensively; Kaya’s face was still pale, her eyes hidden by her hair as she stared down at their joined hands in her lap. Her hands were cold, and still trembling a little, and - despite his better judgement - Zeno squeezed them in his own, wishing he never had to let go. But before he had time to speak, she was looking back up at him, meeting his eye squarely.

Her eyes were red, brimming with tears still unshed, but to Zeno’s very great surprise she was smiling.

“Kaya?” Zeno asked, tentatively. “Please, say something…?” He licked his lips nervously, words babbled too quickly. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I _wanted_ to, but…”

“I sort of… knew” said Kaya, quietly.

That caught Zeno off-guard. “…. _What_?”

“I-I mean…” stammered Kaya, her face turning pink in spots high on her cheeks. “I mean, Zeno, of course I didn’t know you were…. a… a dragon warrior, or…” she laughed nervously, shaking her head, her eyes lingering on the medallion at his chest. “But I knew you were _something_. If you see what I mean. I knew you weren’t ordinary.”

He stared at her, for a moment, utterly at a loss as to how to respond.

She squeezed his hands in her own. “Also” she said, a tear running down her face. “I knew you’d been alone a long time. I knew from when I first met you, the way you were then. I just…” she cleared her throat. “I know what being alone looks like.”

At that, Zeno took a gulp of air, breathing in too fast even as he felt the tears come to his own eyes. “I’m sorry” he mumbled tears running down his face. “I’m sorry for what I was like when you first found me.” An image ran through his mind of his hand snatching the medallion from hers, holding it close and shutting her out, curling in on himself around the bright gold.

Kaya was shaking her head though. “Oh Zeno, you’re so silly.”

“…What?”

“Do you know what it was like when I first found you?” she frowned. “How scared I was, that the longer you stayed here… the more chance you would have of getting sick. I know you told me you wouldn’t, but I never… I never believed it. I thought I would lose you, Zeno! That it would be my fault! And I couldn’t bear it to be my fault.”

He opened his mouth but no words came; somehow she had managed to rob him of them for the second time in only a few minutes. After a moment, a small smile spread over his face. “Well, now you know” he said, feeling a strange warmth well up in his chest, a long lost feeling. “Now you know I’ll never leave you like that. Or…” he forced himself to breath. “Or ever. If you don’t want me to. I could stay.”

Kaya smiled, tentatively. “I’d be happy, Zeno.”

“What?”

“If you stayed. A long time, a short time… forever, if you like. I’d be happy if you did.”

Zeno felt his heart lift. “…I’d be happy, too.”

For a while, they simply knelt opposite each other, their hands joined. After a while, Kaya gasped. “Oh, but you’re still covered in blood! Let me find you some new clothes! Can you borrow something of mine again? Want me to wash your things?”

“Oh, it’s alright, I can do it” said Zeno, hastily. “I’ll just go to the stream and - ”

“No, no, no!” said Kaya, shaking her head. “Salt works best on blood stains… or vinegar, too…” she smiled sadly, sending a pain through Zeno’s chest. “If I know anything, I know that.” She pursed her lips, tapping a finger against them thoughtfully. “Now, come on, Zeno. You look after me so much… let me look after you today!”

“…You look after me all the time, Kaya.”

“Well then” she said, with a bright smile that made Zeno’s heart twist even more painfully. “Let’s both look after each other, from now on.”


	6. Soo-won

“Here all alone, little one?”

The boy curled up on the floor started, nearly knocking over the lantern by which he was reading in the dark; Zeno was quick enough, though, to save it before it toppled to the ground. “Be careful!” he said, with a smile as the child stared up at him with guarded curiosity. “This is the library of your uncle the king, is it not?”

The boy looked a little guilty. “I was only coming to have a look! _My_ father would let me look at books, but this book isn’t one my father has. Only my uncle, and he keeps it locked up and only ever lets Yona see! That’s not fair!”

“No, it isn’t” said Zeno. “But that’s no reason to endanger the books! Such papery things don’t like fire, you know! Besides, little children should be sleeping when the moon rises and the lamps go out!”

The boy hung his head. “I know. I am sorry, mister.” But after a moment, he was peering back up curiously through the falls of his pale hair. “Who are you anyway? What are you doing in the king’s library at night? I’ve never seen you here before!”

He bowed. “Zeno is my name!”

“….But who _are_ you?”

“Who is Zeno, hmm?” Zeno smiled back, glancing down at the book in the boy’s hands. _Tales of King Hiryuu and the Four Dragon Warriors_ , read the title. “Who’s the little lord’s favourite character in that story?”

The boy tilted his head, considering deeply. “Hmmm…. I like… Ouryuu!”

“Oh?” Zeno raised an eyebrow. “Not Hiryuu, the first king of Kouka, a dragon god who descended from the heavens in human form? Not Hakuryuu, whose claws could tear through anything? Not Ryokuryuu who could jump all the way into the sky? Not Seiryuu, who could see through anything and freeze the blood with a single glance?”

“No” insisted the child, rocking on the balls of his feet and clasping his hands behind his back unconcernedly. “Ouryuu. The book says he has a strong body that couldn’t get injured, but it never really says much else, so you want to know what I think?”

“Zeno would love to!” He had to admit, he was curious. This child… Zeno knew who he was from having watched the palace, on and off, since his king had been reborn as the little princess. So he knew well enough about Lord Soo-won, her cousin and best friend and the cleverest child to be born into the royal family for longer than anyone could remember, so his tutors said. _And perhaps a child, untrammelled by the adult delusion that stories could never possibly be real, could guess the truth, and if it were any child then surely it would be this one_ … Zeno felt a slight flicker of nervousness; he knew he must tread carefully.

“I think he’s not real.”

Zeno blinked, slightly taken aback. “What?”

“I think Ouryuu wasn’t real. I mean… well, none of them are real, it’s just a story, but….” the boy tilted his head, screwing up his face. “Even in the story, I think the other characters made him up themselves. Ouryuu, that is.”

“Oh. And why does the little lord think that?”

“Because he can’t be killed or hurt, right?”

 _This boy really was alarmingly perceptive_ , thought Zeno. “Perhaps!”

“And a made up person can’t be killed or hurt, either! It’s just like thoughts…” the child tapped his temple. “They stay in your head. For years and years, if people grow up that old! And you can pass thoughts on by telling other people, so even if you die it doesn’t have to. That’s how I think Ouryuu is, since the story never talk much about him, like the others. I think he’s made up, and that’s why he can’t be hurt! And if he’s made up inside the story, too…” Soo-won scrunched up his small face again, as though in concentration. “Then that means that he’s just as real in the real world as he is in the story!”

“And… that’s why you like him best?”

“Yeah!” piped Soo-won, raising his hands enthusiastically above his head. “That’s _much_ better than any of the other dragon powers!”

Zeno grinned, mischievously. “Then… what would the little lord say, if Zeno said _he_ was Ouryuu?” He spun around in a circle, so his tattered robes swirled.

Soo-won giggled, but his bright eyes met Zeno’s in the most calculating look Zeno had ever seen on a six-year-old. “I’d say… does that mean you’re not going to tell anyone I was up past bedtime?”


	7. Hak

Zeno lingered in the cool shade under the eaves of the canopied walkway as the everyday life of Fuuga bustled past him, much hastened by the recent state of emergency in the Wind Tribe capital. He had helped a little with that, of course, doing small things where he could, fetching and carrying and running errands; the Wind Tribe was quick to accept strangers even in times of trouble, and especially ones that were willing to help.

But he was here for another purpose, and that was to watch. Right now, he holding a handcart filled with dirty laundry to take to the communal washhouse; but Zeno was also watching the man in the blue robes with a weapon wrapped securely in cloth, as well as a small pack slung over one shoulder. His head was down, dark hair covering most of his face. That suited Zeno well enough; he knew the man wouldn’t recognise him now, but he might _later_ , and that could potentially cause some trouble.

Zeno was very much accustomed to planning for the future.

And currently, he had a specific plan in mind; to prevent this man from leaving the city at all costs. Or rather, to delay him, just enough. Drawing back his shoulders, Zeno pulled a soft green hat down over his bright hair - tucking in a few errant golden strands above one ear - and stepped briskly, purposefully, into the flow of people hurrying along the walkway, pushing the handcart before him. He lost sight of the man he had been watching for a moment, as he knew he would, before smiling triumphantly as he saw the flicker of blue robes that mean he had gone the way Zeno had expected, heading out of the complex and towards the main gate of the city.

Zeno knew this place well enough by now to loop around, to reach the adjoining courtyard first; the man was taking a roundabout route, Zeno knew, to shake off anyone who might be following him.

There was one person in particular, Zeno also knew, that he was trying to avoid encountering as he quietly left the city.

That person, however, was not Zeno. Which made it easier to blend in, easier to swerve ahead of the man, slipping in front of him suddenly, into his path. The man had quick reflexes - almost preternaturally so - but apparently, in this case, not quick enough. Before he could stop, Zeno’s handcart was colliding with his legs, knocking it sideways and sending its piled contents fluttering to the ground in the fresh spring breeze.

“Ah! I am sorry!” said Zeno, as the man loomed over him. He looked up to meet dark blue eyes filled with no malice, but rather a sort of guarded look, tinged with impatience. A moment of hesitation; then…

“Ah… no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Here, let me help you.”

Zeno smiled, on cue. “Thank you.” He waited for another few seconds, counting silently to himself. Then, as the man stood to deposit some dropped sheets into the cart, Zeno widened his eyes, gasping a breath. “Ah! I didn’t realise it was you, General Son Hak! It’s been so long!”

A clear wince, a slight glance around, followed by a resigned sigh. “Oh… have we met before?”

Zeno pouted. “Don’t you remember? I’m you’re…” he counted on his fingers. “Hmmm… third cousin, twice removed. Or maybe second cousin three times removed. I never was sure.”

“Ah” said Hak, squinting at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite remember your name…”

“Oh, of course, with so many relatives it’s easy to forget! I’m Ji-min.” Zeno bowed. “Pleased to meet you!”

“Ji-min…” Hak frowned. “Oh, you’re related to Han-dae, right? I remember you from his tenth birthday party.”

Zeno decided to go with that story, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! The food was the best part!”

“…Yes alright, you’re definitely related to Han-dae” Hak muttered, but Zeno saw him smile affectionately. “Well, if you’ll excuse me…” said Hak, folding the last sheet rather hastily and placing it on top of the pile. “I should really be on my way…”

“Ah! Wait!” piped Zeno, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I just remembered, on my way here I saw little Tae-yeon… he was wondering where his big brother had gone and I said that I would tell him if I saw you…” Zeno let his eyes travel over Hak’s travel bag and weapon. “Oh, you’re leaving?”

Something warred behind Hak’s gaze. “Not for long. Just… ah… going hunting.”

Zeno tilted his head. “Oh. Well, you’ll be back soon, right? Tae-yeon said he really wanted to see you!” Zeno stared down at the ground for a moment. “Brothers are important.”

Hak sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked forward, then back the way he’d come. “Well, alright. I might look in on the kid before I leave, then.” He ruffled the tuft of golden hair that had come loose from Zeno’s hat, at the front. “Hey, Ji-min?”

“Hmm?”

“…Thanks.”

Zeno grinned, waving. “Have a nice trip!”

And with that, Hak turned back, and Zeno, with a secret smile, carried on a little way in the direction he had been going, before dropping off the handcart in an alcove - he would come back for it later - slipping the hat off and into his pocket, then doubling back, following Hak at a discrete distance.

From a high window, he watched Hak talk to Tae-yeon; he couldn’t hear the words, but he saw the little boy’s face scrunch up in tears, his older brother kneel down - placing his bag and glaive on the ground with a sigh - and take Tae-yeon’s hands, talk to him for a while and hug him before getting to his feet and turning to leave once more. But not a full minute later, Zeno watched as a bright patch of red appeared at the door beside Tae-yeon, who pointed. And a moment after that, Princess Yona herself was hurrying off in the direction that Hak had just walked off in, towards the main gate and the world beyond.

Zeno smiled as the bright splash of her red hair passed out of sight; she would catch up to Hak by about the gate, he was sure. _Perfect_.

Zeno knew he would see them both again, soon enough, but for today he had done what he had set out to do.


	8. Shin-ah

The night of the fire festival had turned to dancing now, with more people in the space that had been cleared as a dance floor that off it.

Zeno, for his part, had been playing with the laughing children - showing them some simple juggling tricks just to see their faces light up with joy. But now their parents had taken them off to bed, and he felt suddenly alone, caught in a small, cold pocket of isolation amongst people.

It wasn’t as though it was an unfamiliar feeling.

He frowned a little, thinking to seek out the others - _or anyone else, anything to avoid being alone, no, not again, not now_ \- when he felt a prickle at the back of his neck, the small hairs rising in a way that was very familiar.

He was being watched.

Zeno, smiling indulgently, turned around and saw exactly what he expected; the bright bone white, and black empty eyes of a mask, caught in stark shadow in the flickering firelight.

He smiled, waving as he bounded over. “Seiryuu! Not dancing?”

Shin-ah looked up at him, with a slight shake of his head. “Just… watching.”

Zeno nodded, looking over to where the others were. He could make out Yona and Hak standing at the side of the dancefloor - the bright beads of Yona’s elaborate Kai headdress catching the light as they talked, Ao sitting on her shoulder and chewing happily on one of the fringes - and he could see Yoon, half-hidden by a group of villagers, deep in animated conversation with several of them. He could also see Jae-ha - who had apparently taken a break from playing the flute to join the dance himself - laughing unconcernedly as he teased Kija, who was obviously blushing to the very tips of his ears even in the dim firelight. They both watched as Jae-ha attempted to drag Kija by the sleeve to the dancefloor, aided by an enthusiastic gaggle of young women and not a few young men.

Zeno laughed as Jae-ha leaned over to whisper something in Kija’s ear that made him turn even brighter pink and squeak angrily, though a moment later he was resignedly letting himself be half-dragged over the dancefloor by Jae-ha’s newly-acquired group.

“Ryokuryuu and Hakuryuu look like they’re having fun!” said Zeno, as the music began anew, dancers quickly dividing into pairs or loose groups and starting to spin around to the sounds of the flute, drums and bells. He watched Shin-ah’s face - what little he could see of it below the mask. His mouth was a little open, and though he couldn’t see his eyes, Zeno knew Shin-ah was staring fixedly at the group on the dancefloor, watching friends and lovers, siblings and strangers all dancing together.

Zeno touched Shin-ah’s shoulder. “Doesn’t Seiryuu want to join them?”

Shin-ah’s mouth twitched, and he looked down at his clasped hands, mumbling something.

“Hmm?” said Zeno gently, sitting down cross-legged beside Shin-ah, their backs against the wall of an outhouse a little way off. He didn’t rush Shin-ah; Zeno had come to know by now that when Shin-ah was ready to talk, he would.

“Don’t… know how.”

“Oh!” Zeno felt his heart twist, as he remembered the child he had met all those years ago, the child who had been so alone for so long. “Well, that’s sad. Everyone should know how to dance!” A memory came then, a very old one, filtering through like voices in an adjoining room.

_“Ouryuu, your dancing is disgraceful you know…. hardly fit for the palace of a king, fool though he may be” Abi’s arms were folded, his eyes narrowed. “Let me teach you how to do it properly…” they had swirled around the palace dancefloor together, Abi snapping at him when he had missed a step or tripped on the hem of his unfamiliar courtly robes, in a way that spoke of a dancing master berating a pupil. After, though, they had both smiled and Abi had confessed that he, too, had hated the dancing lessons he was forced into as a child, and together they had danced a children’s festival dance from Zeno’s village instead. They had laughed at Shuten’s showing off and admired King Hiryuu’s guileless grace as he danced with everyone in the room, and teased Guen when his protectiveness showed, until the night passed and the fires burned down and the castle slept._

Zeno felt himself smile. “Let me teach you, Seiryuu!”

Shin-ah’s head snapped sideways to look at Zeno, and he could almost feel those inscrutable - but familiar, so familiar - golden eyes staring at him from behind the mask, cautious but hopeful, weighing the risks.

Zeno did what he could to meet that gaze, smiling encouragingly. After a moment, Shin-ah nodded slightly. His mouth twitched, the greatest reward for his effort; Shin-ah’s smiles were rarer than swallows in winter, and this was not _quite_ a smile… but it was close, close enough for Zeno to grin back broadly, taking Shin-ah by the hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Come on!” he said, dragging him along and thinking of Shin-ah’s quick feet and darting eyes, taking in the movements of his opponent in a fight or copying the motions of his friends as they taught him some new skill. Smiling-without-smiling in that way he had when he quickly mastered it, silently glorying in learning something new. “Zeno knows Seiryuu will love it!”


	9. Kija

Kija immediately leapt to his feet as Yoon came back into the room. “How is the Princess?”

Yoon paused a moment before answering, and Zeno did not miss the minute tremble of Kija’s lip in that silence.

“She’s sleeping now” said Yoon, his face twitching as he clearly tried to smooth away the twist of worry in his face. “It was a fairly deep cut, but… it should heal well, so long as she rests properly.”

Kija did not seem reassured by this; he sympathised though. Seeing Yona’s back covered in blood - where he himself could have saved her that pain, could have put himself between the sword and her unprotected skin if only he had been quick enough, for Zeno’s secrets were not worth her spilled blood, and never, ever would be - had taken its toll on him too. But Kija had taken her wounding harder even that Zeno had expected.

“Sit down, Kija” said Hak, his voice taut and brittle. Hak looked as weary and drawn as any of them; they all carried the weight of this on their shoulders, all wishing they could have only kept her safe from danger. Hak’s voice was dangerously close to cracking, his hands balling into fists then uncurling, then closing again as though he longed to be holding a weapon, to be fighting head-on the enemy that still hid in the shadows.

“He’s right” said Yoon firmly, interrupting Kija’s incipient protest. “All we can do now is let Yona sleep, and heal.”

For a moment, Zeno saw tears in Kija’s eyes, his cheeks flushing red with shame and hurt, but Kija simply folded his arms around himself - dragon hand squeezed into a trembling fist under his arm, and sat down in the corner of the room, turning his face away.

 

“Hakuryuu, Zeno knows you’re awake.”

Kija started at the sound of his voice, showing the truth of Zeno’s words as the blanket twitched off a shoulder. The ghosts that always drifted and clustered around Kija - their spectral dragon hands always reaching out as though in perpetual longing for something that they could not reach - were quivering and agitated, whispering words in voices only on the edge of Zeno’s hearing.

Kija was lying curled on his side and facing away from Zeno, but Zeno leaned over him, peering around to meet Kija’s eyes in the soft half-light of evening, turned to grey by the clouds that still hung heavy over Shisen. Lifting the corner of the blanket gently, he tucked it back around Kija’s shoulder.

“H-how did you know?”

Zeno had known mostly because of the ghosts, but he would not tell Kija that. “Hakuryuu normally sleeps on his back” he explained instead, in a whisper. “Not all curled up in a ball.”

Kija sat up with a quiet sigh, so as not to wake the others sleeping a little way off. “You should sleep too, Zeno.”

Zeno didn’t answer this, but merely regarded Kija thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side. Kija turned his face away.

“Zeno….” he said at length, “do you ever… fear that it’s not enough?”

“Hmm?”

The rain was beginning again outside, pattering on the roof tiles. “Do you ever fear that… even the power of the four dragons… might not be enough to protect the Princess? It…” his voice trembled. “It would take so little, any small mistake could…” Kija paused, shaking his head and turning away once more. He passed his dragon hand over his face, roughly wiping away something on his cheek. “Ah, what am I saying. Please forgive me, it’s not like you - ”

“Yes.”

Kija turned to him, blinking. “What?”

“Yes… Zeno does fear that.”

Kija nodded, slowly, the ghosts clustering in closer, as though to shield him. “When we felt Jae-ha’s spirit flicker the other day, I thought…” he glanced back over his shoulder to where Jae-ha was sleeping, one hand thrown over his face. Suddenly the sight of their brother collapsed in the rain, Yona’s tears as they had carried him back, the sound of agonised screaming from the adjoining room, all horribly fresh in Zeno’s mind.

“I thought… I was always taught that the four dragon warriors were the vessels for the powers of the gods on earth, and when King Hiryuu came again, it would be as a god in human form, untouchable and divine. But we… we may have the powers of the gods, but we are humans, just as any other. We fail, we can die, just as easily.” The silence following Kija’s words was heavy, filled only by the sound of rain.

“Hakuryuu is right” said Zeno, his heart heavy. He leant against Kija, wrapping the blanket around both of them. The ghosts rustled and whispered. “We dragons are… fragile as humans. But…” he wrapped his arms around Kija, burying his face in his the warm fabric of his shirt and feeling the nervous flicker of Kija’s heart, a heart whose beats may run out any moment. “….But humans can be strong, too, Zeno thinks.”

Kija frowned. “Not strong _enough_.”

“Why does Hakuryuu think that? The Miss has survived and fought up to this moment, hasn’t she? The Mister and Hakuryuu and Ryokuryuu and Seiryuu have fought for her, and the Lad has patched everyone’s hurts.” Zeno smiled, a little painfully. “Zeno hasn’t done much yet, but Zeno would fight for the Miss, and would fight for all of you too, though Zeno’s strength isn’t very much!”

“That is true” said Kija, biting his lip nervously. “But what if…”

“Zeno’s always thought that _what ifs_ never did anyone much good. They fly about like ghosts, and they can suck the life from you. But Zeno thinks Hakuryuu knows that already.”

“Well, perhaps, but…”

“Zeno thinks that Hakuryuu can carry the old griefs, learn from them. Hakuryuu wants to protect the Miss, to help her find her way to wherever destiny will carry her, no?”

“Yes! Of course I do. I want to protect her too.”

“Well, Zeno doesn’t know for certain, but Zeno thinks… Zeno suspects that if anyone can do it, it’s Hakuryuu.” He smiled brilliantly. “With the help of his brothers and friends, of course!”

Kija was silent for a while. Then he swallowed, seeming to draw himself up a little, his eyes suddenly filling with warmth. “ _What ifs never did anyone any good_ , you said? You know it’s funny, Zeno, because my Granny always taught me that, too.” He smiled a little. “She taught me so much, about the village of Hakuryuu and the unbroken line of my predecessors. About the power of the gods, and what it were to mean if the King were to come again, so that I would be ready. And she told me that I would be destined to pass that knowledge on.” He stared into his open palms. “You know Zeno, once I had thought to pass it on only to my successor… but now I can pass it on to all of you, my brothers in the dragon’s blood.” He smiled. “And I think… I may fear sometimes, but I have faith that we can defend our Princess, our King Hiryuu. Together!”

At those words something twisted inside Zeno’s chest; he felt tears come to his eyes, all of a sudden. In that moment, he saw not Kija’s eyes shining with renewed hope, but Guen’s, almost the exact same shade of blue. The ghosts had spread out, clustering around the two of them now and enveloping them, no longer grasping in desperate longing, but in hope.

And for a moment, a sudden urge to tell Kija everything filled him; to tell Kija that Zeno had seen life-ages of the world come and go, had seen the first dragon warriors, had known them as his brothers. Had known and served and loved King Hiryuu himself. Had watched them all fall, disappearing into history, then into legend.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t the time; not yet. Not here, not now, not with Yona’s wounding so close, not in the still half-darkness while the world slept.

It was not a tale for the nighttime.

“Zeno” said Kija, his face soft with something that was not quite a smile as around them the others dreamed, quiet breaths laid over each other and the sound of the rain outside. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank Zeno. Hakuryuu is the best of big brothers. It’s time Zeno returned the favour!”


	10. Yoon

“Oh, the Lad is up late! Enjoying the moonlight?”

Yoon started visibly at Zeno’s words, turning back to look at him, away from the round, golden-coloured moon that hung heavy in the sky above them, its reflection caught too in the reflective surface of the cold mountain lake at their feet.

“Zeno!” said Yoon quickly, breath misting in the frigid night air, here in the cold lands around the northern border with Kai. “I… ah….” he clasped his hands together a little awkwardly, drawing the fur he had thrown about his shoulders closer as Zeno came to stand at his side. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nor could Zeno” he confessed.

“Aren’t you cold?” asked Yoon.

“A little” said Zeno. “Aren’t you?”

“…..Maybe slightly” said Yoon, “but I…. wanted to be outside.” He smiled ruefully. “And I didn’t want to disturb Yona with tossing and turning. She needs to rest, with how hard she’s been pushing herself.”

“And Zeno didn’t want to disturb the others, just the same.”

Yoon nodded. For a moment, he seemed about to say something, then to change his mind, staring back up at the bright moon. “I can understand that” said Yoon quietly instead, and Zeno knew that he was remembering the battle, a few days past; Zeno regretted many things, but not the least of them was that this boy - with his heart so easily moved by the pain of others - had been made to watch that, to see what Zeno truly was. That they had all had to find out in the worst of ways, in seeing him die, and be torn apart, and come back fighting, even though his blood was spilled and his body broken on the ground.

If he had had a choice, he would have found a different way to tell them.

Still, he supposed; they all had to find out some day. With all the fighting their group had somehow been getting themselves into, the others were bound to find out sooner or later. If these were the people that were to save Zeno from his centuries of solitude, bound close to them by Yona and held together by their shared goal of supporting and protecting her and the trust and friendship they had grown themselves, then they had to know the power of Ouryuu. In fact, he should have told Yoon long ago; he should have told them all.

Maybe that would have saved them all some pain, at least.

Zeno had never been much good at sharing those parts of his life though, nor had he been very skilled at knowing to speak to someone before it was too late.

“Zeno?”

Yoon’s voice interrupted his thoughts. A cold wind stirred his hair and cast small ripples on the water of the lake, making the moon’s reflection twist and distort.

“Yes, Lad?”

Yoon was not looking at him, his eyes staring up at the moon, its golden light reflecting off them. “Do you ever…. think about the gods?”

Zeno’s eyes widened a little at that. “Zeno was a priest, once!” he said, after a moment. “A priest wouldn’t be much good if he didn’t think about the gods now, would he?”

Yoon frowned a little, turning towards him. “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant…” he interlinked his fingers, let them go, then repeated the action. “When I was a child, my father was taken away to fight in Soo-jin’s army. My mother and brother died in one of the epidemics, just like the ones we saw in the Fire Tribe today. My older sister died in childbirth. For a while I was left with nothing and no-one, having to steal food so that I wouldn’t starve. And Ik-su… he saved me, in lots of different ways, and he used to talk about the gods, but I always thought… I never really _felt_ what he said, not in the same way he did. I never understood how a god could allow something like that to happen, could allow children to be left alone to starve. Not unless they were cruel, and anyway, why should a god want to help humans? Why should they care?”

Yoon paused for a moment, glancing at Zeno before continuing. “When I met Yona and we began to search for the four dragon warriors, I thought I was closer to understanding. I understood, a little, what the powers of gods meant, and what they could do, and what they couldn’t. But seeing you, seeing you fight, and…” Zeno saw that Yoon’s eyes were glistening with tears in the moonlight. “….and knowing, now, that the others will die so young, like their powers are… are burning through their human bodies… I just can’t bear to think of it, because what happens if one of their successors is to be born? What then? I know about herbs and medicines, but what use is it if there’s something like that, that I can’t heal them from?” Yoon sounded slightly panicked. “And…I realised then that I don’t understand at all, Zeno! I don’t understand anything!”

Yoon turned to him, quickly looking away and scrubbing at the tears on his cheeks with his sleeve. “I’m… I’m sorry” he said in a small voice. “I know it shouldn’t be _me_ that’s upset by this, when you…” he broke off. “Zeno, do the gods…. do they ever talk to you? You said you were a priest, but… do _you_ understand?”

Zeno smiled, faintly. “Once, actually, they did! Zeno doesn’t know about understanding, but… when Zeno was a little child, the gods really did talk! Zeno heard their voices, sometimes!”

“Really? You mean, when you…” Yoon looked doubtful, “…um…. accepted the power of Ouryuu?”

Zeno nodded. “Then, and before…”

“….Not after?”

Zeno looked back at the boy’s eyes, shining in the light. _Searching_ , came the thought to his mind suddenly. _Searching for answers_.

“No” admitted Zeno, almost to his own surprise. He had never told anyone this before, and he felt a rush of mingled anxiety and relief. “Ever since Zeno accepted the power of Ouryuu… the voices of the gods have been silent.”

Yoon stared at him for a moment, clearly taken aback. “…Really? But you said you were a priest, in the palace? In King Hiryuu’s day…?”

“Yes! Well, in a way… after the king’s death, the people of the palace came to Zeno with their problems, yes. Zeno protected them, yes. Zeno taught the young prince how to be a king, yes. Zeno did everything a priest should, but….”

“….But without the help of the gods.”

“Yes.” He bunched his hands in the cloth of his outer robe, curling his fingers tight. “They never did seem to want to talk to Zeno again, after that.”

“Oh. And even after, you’ve never…” Yoon looked shocked, as Zeno nodded his confirmation. “Zeno” Yoon said, his eyes brimming with tears again, his arms going around Zeno in a sudden hug. “You must have been so…. so _alone_.”

Zeno tensed, at first, at the sudden contact, but after a moment, he found himself holding Yoon back, arms going up to hug the boy close. Yoon was so young, Zeno thought; he reminded him almost of himself at that age, a child whose heart was wide open, longing to help those he loved, to fight to protect them from pain in any way he could, even if he would never be a strong warrior, even if he felt powerless. _Such a fragile heart_ , thought Zeno with a sinking feeling. He must take care not to let it break on his watch, not while he was able to fight himself.

After all, if there was one thing Zeno was not, it was fragile.

Still, he saw no sense in lying to the boy, to try to protect him; such a thing would not serve anyone.

“Yes” admitted Zeno, drawing back. “Yes, Zeno was alone. For… for a long time.” He wiped the tears off Yoon’s cheek with a thumb. “But…. Zeno isn’t alone anymore. Zeno has the Miss to serve and love and follow, and the Lad to look after him, and Mister, and dragon brothers again too! Zeno has all the family he could want! So don’t cry, Lad.” He took a deep breath, staring up at the golden moon. “Zeno was alone for a long time, and the voices of the gods were silent. But you know what Zeno thinks?”

Yoon sniffed, smiling tentatively along with Zeno. “What do you think, Zeno?”

“Zeno thinks… Zeno thinks that the voices of humans are much nicer to listen to, anyway. The voices of the gods don’t make anything much better, but humans now… Zeno has seen a lot of them come and go, in these many years….”

Yoon frowned, his shoulders drooping a little. “Yes, you must see us as so small, our lives to unimportant.”

“Actually” said Zeno, “Zeno would say the opposite. All humans are important! Zeno is a human, too! And…” he met Yoon’s eye. “Every human is important. There’s never been one who isn’t, and never will be. So, even if the gods have nothing to say…”

Yoon breathed in quickly, in understanding, “….then it doesn’t matter if we don’t hear their voices.”

Zeno nodded. “Zeno’s been thinking that, lately. The powers of the four dragons are well and good and useful! But the Miss, for example… she has no dragon’s power, has she?”

“Well… no, she doesn’t have powers like you do, but…”

“But she has a different sort of power, doesn’t the Lad think? A human sort of power.”

Yoon nodded. “She does!”

“And if you ask Zeno….” he smiled, gently. “Zeno thinks that though we may never know what the gods truly think… a human sort of power might be good enough.”


	11. Jae-ha

“And the warrior courtesan was so enamoured with me, that she begged me to marry her and take her far away from the cruel lord. I almost considered it, too, but I thought, on the whole, that I’d rather not be tied down so. But when I told her so, she flew into a rage and threw her kunai at me - ”

“This story is getting idiotic” muttered Hak, stirring the fire with a stick. “Surely you don’t believe half the stuff he’s coming out with?”

“Shhh!” said Yona. “Don’t be rude. Jae-ha’s telling a story!”

Hak rolled his eyes but subsided as Yoon passed him the basket of peaches they were sharing as they sat around the fire, which was all the chance Jae-ha needed to continue with his story. “But luckily, even with my hands tied with the curtain cord - and that’s a story in itself! - I was able to dodge the blades in the air - ”

Hak snorted his disbelief as Kija scoffed.

“…And then she was gone. I never saw her again, but the blades were mine. I think she meant for me to have them. Normally we pirates would share our loot equally, but Captain Gigan was so impressed when she heard the story later from the ladies who were looking down on the town square from the windows of the Velvet Rope, that I was allowed to keep them. And that’s how I got these!” Jae-ha smiled conspiratorially, looping a small knife around his finger with a flick of satin ribbon. “Next time… the story of my twin daggers. I won them fair and square in a death-defying wager, but to find out how I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night!” He glanced around the group; Shin-ah and Yoon were already beginning to doze against each other’s shoulders. “Well, well” said Jae-ha. “Yona, my dear, you asked for a story… I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted that the tales of my younger days put these children half to sleep.”

“Be flattered, Jae-ha” said Yona, with a laugh that turned into a yawn itself. “It _was_ a very good bedtime story.”

“Just as long as no one was expecting a word of truth in it” said Hak dryly.

“Excuse me Hak…” Jae-ha’s eyes glittered in amusement as Zeno watched, “…just what are you implying?”

“That I don’t believe a word of what you say, Droopy Eyes.” Hak’s eyes were narrowed but there was a weary smile in his voice. “And I still don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

“Oh, and how far is that?” Jae-ha smiled sidelong at Hak. “Please, I am so curious to know the… lengths to which your fabled strength can go.”

“Psh, I punch you plenty, and would do it more if you didn’t seem to enjoy it so much.”

Zeno smiled along with the others at their companionable back-and-forth, familiar as the sound of the clatter of Yoon’s pots and pans or the clicking of the beads of his own medallion, after travelling this long with their little group. One by one, they lay down on the ground and fell asleep - it was a very warm night, so they hadn’t bothered with the tents or even blankets but slept merely on their ground mats under the stars - until only Jae-ha and Zeno were left awake. Jae-ha was sharpening his many knives, slowly and meticulously, and for a while Zeno just watched him, lying on his side a little way off.

“You spin a very beautiful tall tale, Ryokuryuu.”

Zeno’s voice clearly startled Jae-ha a little, the whetstone and the blade almost slipping in his hands. “Go to sleep, Zeno” he muttered, looking up for a moment so that the orange light of the last of their fire caught the front of his hair, turning it momentarily from the colour of summer leaves to the sharp flame of autumn.

Zeno, however, made no move to do as Jae-ha had asked, but merely sat up, watching. He sat there cross-legged with his chin on his hands, watching Jae-ha.

“Go on, kid. And yes, I’m still going to call you that however old you are. Force of habit.”

When Zeno still didn’t reply, Jae-ha put down his stone, frowning. “Besides, what made you think it was a tall tale?” Jae-ha smiled wryly. “I’m almost insulted that you don’t believe me either. We brothers should trust each other, should we not? How do you know I wasn’t telling the truth?”

“Zeno just knew, that’s how.”

“You can’t know for certain. You weren’t there, after all.” An edge of doubt crept into his voice, suddenly. “Were you?”

Zeno shrugged. “Not much, no. Not then.”

Jae-ha raised a questioning eyebrow.

“No, it’s the way Ryokuryuu talks” said Zeno quietly, lying back on his rush matt and putting his hands beneath his head. “Like a man dreaming.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tell Zeno the truth, and you will see.” Suddenly, Zeno smiled, brilliantly. “Or don’t. Your choice. But Zeno should like to know where Ryokuryuu’s knives really came from! Zeno’s sure the story is just as exciting as the tall tale!”

Jae-ha looked back down again at the twin, curved blades and the set of kunai laid out on the spread out velvet cloth before him, placing the last one carefully with the others. He was silent for a long time and when he spoke again his tone was different, quieter and without the storyteller’s flair he was so good at. “It’s not… _quite_ as beautiful as what I said before, you know.”

When Zeno didn’t react but to cock his head slightly towards him. _I’m listening_ , he hoped Jae-ha understood by that. _If you want to talk_.

Jae-ha sighed. “Alright, fine, you persistent old man” He pulled a small, plain knife with a flat blade from the sheath at his belt. “This one was my very first, right after I escaped from my village. I had stopped for food in another village, in the mountains…” he faltered. “I was a kid, and a kid who knew nothing of the world at that. For all the times I tried to make my escape from that place I never gave any thought to what I would do when I actually _succeeded_ in escaping, or what I’d do after. I didn’t know anything then. I thought that if I got far away, I would be safe, that nothing could harm me…” he spun the knife in his fingers, looking over at Zeno, a tired smile and the ghost of old pain crossing his face. “This knife’s story was very simply, really. Some man offered me food, a place to sleep. Then in the night, he tried to bundle me into a sack - I guess he wanted to sell me, I’ve seen it often enough since. It happens everywhere with kids on their own. I panicked, struggled - I could have kicked him to death but he had already tied my legs up tight while I was sleeping. He must have put something in my food. I managed to get the knife he had at my throat though, and twisted his wrist around, turned it back on him…” he paused for a moment, remembering. “There was a lot of blood. I remember thinking that I hadn’t expected there to be so much. What’s a bloody-handed twelve-year-old to do? I didn’t even realise I had kept the knife until much later, when I was far away.” He smiled bitterly. “Returning it didn’t seem quite the thing to do.”

“And then?”

Jae-ha laughed painfully. “What do you think? I kept running. It was all I could do.” Jae-ha ran a finger lightly along the flat of the blade, too close to its newly-sharpened edge but not quite breaking the skin. As though testing his nerve.

“And the others?” asked Zeno after a while, indicating the rest of Jae-ha’s blades, which were arranged about him. There was a strange look in his eye, like he wanted to tell Zeno everything, but couldn’t quite find the words. Zeno gave him an encouraging smile.

Jae-ha huffed a sigh. “There was a set of curved, twin throwing knives, with purple silk ribbons, which, alas, I lost in a drunken wager a few years later.” He smiled wryly. “I got dunked in the harbour as well, because apparently my knives weren’t enough to pay for all I owed. But they did have a story too, I suppose; I was looking at them in a shop front in Chi’shin, when I was travelling, before I ended up in Awa. The master smith was talking to some noble lord or other, I guess, all bowing and false politeness, and his apprentice chased away the ragged, hungry urchin I must have been with a broom. I suppose it must have been for ruining the view for the nobles, or some such, yelling about how _my sort_ wasn’t welcome in his establishment. I guess that was what made me decide, in the end.” His mouth twisted. “You can probably guess. I swiped them while they smith and the apprentice were busy bowing, and jumped into the sky.”

“Didn’t the words _fair and square_ come up before?” asked Zeno, raising an eyebrow with a slight smile of amusement. “Sounds more like - ”

“ _Yes_. Alright.” snapped Jae-ha, taking him by surprise. “Yes, I lied. Kija would be horrified with how I used my…” he raised a hand before him in a dramatic, expansive gesture and put on a high, sing-song voice. “My _sacred powers_.” Then he sighed, subsiding.“The truth is that did steal a lot before I found the pirates, and even though I started by only stealing food and clothes, it wasn’t only that. I wanted things that I had never had, and doubtless it would have come down to stealing or selling my young body, in the end.” His smile was like broken glass. “Which I was able to escape from, because I ended up in Awa and found my Captain and her crew. Besides, I thought, no one wants some kid with…” His face twisted momentarily, before settling back to his usual languid half-smile. “Anyway. Yoon and the Princess would have cried over me if I had told that version, and who needs that, hmm? Don’t you think the stories I tell are _better_?”

Zeno didn’t answer. Instead he turned over so that he was lying on his side, gazing at Jae-ha from across the fire again. Jae-ha seemed to brace himself for whatever Zeno would say next, as though expecting a reprimand, or simple disappointment. “What about those?” Zeno asked instead, pointing at the kunai in their faded, threadbare velvet roll, that Jae-ha had been sharpening a moment before. “Was there _really_ a warrior courtesan?”

“…In a manner of speaking, there was actually” said Jae-ha, with a slightly wistful smile. “This set” he said, passing a hand over the newly-sharpened blades with their bright silk ribbons, spread out on the velvet cloth, “was always my favourite.” His voice assumed - unconsciously, Zeno thought - something of its story-telling timbre from before. “They really were from a courtesan, from the court of a visiting lord from Southern Kai - some trade ally of that bastard Kumji - when I was a pirate in Awa.” He grinned. “I was hardly more than a scrawny fourteen-year-old at the time though, so there was no scandalous love affair, I am afraid. She used to come down to the docks in secret at night, just to talk with the pirates and look at the sea. Her name was Nari, and she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my short life. She used to bring all the pirate kids and runaways and dock urchins sweet buns from her lord’s lodgings in town. It was she that gave me lessons on the erhu.” He frowned. “She was very sad though. And then one day, she disappeared. We assumed her master had hidden her away, kept her from going outside, and I was angry, but I couldn’t _do_ anything.” Jae-ha curled the knife into his closed fist in frustration, letting the flat of the blade press against his palm hard enough to hurt, but not so hard as to break the skin. “The chance came when we pirates made an agreement with the girls of the Velvet Rope, who had been mistreated by the man and his court. We raided the mansion where he was staying in town, but when we got there it was already too late. The man had fled.”

“What happened to Lady Nari?”

Jae ha tightened his hand a little around the palm-sized blade. “We never found out. It looked like everyone there had left in a hurry though, the whole place turned upside down. Signs of a fight, too.” He hesitated. “Maybe the man got into some disagreement with Kumji, or maybe his own people turned on him. I even asked Captain Gigan to send out people and ask around, but we never found out exactly what happened to Lady Nari.”

Zeno’s face was disappointed, he thought, but there was something else there, something more difficult to read. “So she… Nari… _wasn’t_ the one who gave you the knives?”

He smiled up at the night sky, remembering. “Not in the sense that I told the others, if you’ll forgive me my lies, Ouryuu. But when he fled, the old serpent left a huge and very beautiful hoard of weapons behind him. To a man like him, maybe they meant nothing. But it was more than we had seen in years. What we took was distributed equally as always, but Captain Gigan - who had been training me herself and saw my progress in knife-throwing as a matter of personal pride - said I should have this set in particular, as they were like her own, which I had been practicing with. I loved them because they reminded me of my Captain, but also of Lady Nari. I must have been quite in love at the time.” A quiet, bitter laugh. “I _grew_ to love them because they are beautiful in their own right, and because using them they saved my life, many times.” He shrugged, languidly. “And that’s all. Not a very good story, really.”

“A true one though.” There was a hint of a question in Zeno’s voice, which Jae-ha apparently chose to ignore.

Instead he smiled wryly and began wrapping up the newly-sharpened knives before him in the velvet roll. “That may be, but you didn’t answer my question, I can’t help but notice Zeno. Don’t you think the tall tales were _better_?”

“Perhaps” said Zeno, who was sitting up again now, prodding the glowing ashes of the fire with a stick so that they flared a little into life once more.

“Besides, who are you to talk, hmm? Exactly how long did you keep your secrets?”

“Zeno’s secrets were no secrets at all, they were merely waiting for the right moment to be revealed” said Zeno, as Jae-ha scoffed. He stared directly at Jae-ha. “But Ryokuryuu is only changing the subject… could it be that Ryokuryuu wants the others to think well of him?”

Jae-ha met his gaze intently in the fading firelight. Then he laughed. “You’re one to talk of changing the subject! Well, well, the dragon’s blood did bind me to the side of our princess, so I may as well do my duty whilst having the others… _think well of me_ , as you put it. _Not_ that I admit to something like that!”

“And?”

“And what?”

“It’s not only the dragon’s blood, Zeno thinks. Zeno thinks that Ryokuryuu’s own human heart’s blood wants the others to think well of him too. That maybe - just perhaps - Ryokuryuu is only beginning to understand it himself, is confused, is in the dark - ”

Jae-ha snorted. “Yes and yes to those last, I admit. Very astute of you, old man. Can we please go to sleep now?”

“Ryokuryuu.”

Jae-ha looked up at the sharp note in Zeno’s voice. “Yes?”

“Zeno won’t tell the others the stories, not until that Ryokuryuu decides to himself, if it ever happens.”

Jae-ha closed his eyes for a moment, his hands stilling on his blades. Then he opened them again. “I know” he said, and then, quietly enough that he wasn’t sure it was even audible, “thank you, Zeno.”

Zeno smiled as the fire went out, knowing that his brother understood.


	12. Yona

The fires that had burned Zeno’s flesh from his bones had all but flickered out in the warm, humid air of Xing’s stifling summer nights, but Yona still held onto him as though she never wanted to let go. She held him in her lap as he sobbed and choked and bit his lips - what remained of them - in pain as his skin grew back. He heard - or perhaps felt - her hiss with pain as her hand brushed his arm, scales that burned to the touch like a copper-bottomed pan left to close to the fire making her hand twitch, a reflexive motion. His healing was slower here, so far away and in another country, so the process was prolonged, drawn out agonisingly slowly.

But still, she never stopped holding him in her arms. He wanted to tell her to draw back, that she shouldn’t touch him when he was like this - _he was being selfish, even, making her watch this, see him like this, hurting her_ \- but he couldn’t get the words out. After all, he scorched flesh around him mouth had not grown back enough to form real words, only a worldless, soundless cry of pain as she held him, her tears hissing to steam as they fell on his skin, cooling and healing quickly over now.

Eventually all that was left was smooth skin, marred only by a coating of black soot, staining her skirt. Yona held him, too, as his hair grew back and stroked it gently when it did, and even through the lingering pain Zeno could feel the tremble of her fingers.

She would have kept holding him longer, he knew, but behind them another section of Princess Tao’s summer house collapsed in a shower of sparks, sent high up into the black sky with the billowing smoke, lit from within. The sound and the rolling wave of heat that reached them even here made Yona flinch. And suddenly people were all around them, the other dragons, Tao and her guards, a soot-covered cat padding over to them and gently rubbing its cheek up against Zeno’s side.

Yona didn’t want to let go, even as the man called Vold was saying that they had to leave, to move from here if they wanted to live. He could feel her reluctance to let him go - and returned it - even as she let herself be helped to her feet along with Zeno, only letting go of his hand for a moment as someone pulled a spare robe around Zeno’s still-trembling shoulders, gently pulling his hands through its sleeves and tying his belt for him.

Jae-ha’s voice was enough to bring Zeno back a little closer to the present, as he asked Zeno and Yona if they could walk. Zeno nodded numbly; the group had already begun to move. Yona had taken his hand again, grounding him a little more, and for that moment it was all he needed.

 

Zeno had no idea how much time had passed. At some point, Yona had fallen half asleep on her feet and Hak and Jae-ha had taken turns carrying her. They had offered to carry him too, but Zeno had refused, carrying on stumbling forward on his own bare feet. It was better, at least, to feel earth beneath him.

They had stopped and were in hiding in a cave - Argila was passing around bowls of soup, Yoon ladling them out of a large pot - when Zeno felt the medallion return to him, materialising around his neck in that way it had, under the fabric of his borrowed robe. It was always cold at first, but as ever it quickly took on the warmth of his skin.

Zeno put down his bowl and let his hand go to the well-known curve of gold beneath the linen, the feeling of beads clicking together a familiar comfort.

As he stirred, Yona too looked up from her barely touched food, her eyes shadowed as though with worry, as though he may disappear the moment she turned her back.

 _That was the last thing that was likely to happen, at least_.

Zeno, nevertheless, gave Yona what he hoped was a calm and reassuring smile, taking the medallion out from under his robe and letting it lie flat on his chest.

She smiled when he did, and it was like a warm wash of sunlight; in fact, it was so like Hiryuu’s smiles of relief when Zeno returned unharmed from the battlefield - yet somehow, indescribably different and quite her own - that he felt a stab of pain sharper than any burn, mingling strangely with the joy of that smile.

He forced himself to return to his food, hands wrapped close about the warm stoneware bowl. It was strange, he thought vaguely, that even when he had been burning only a few hours ago he could feel this cold.

Some time later the others had finished eating and were beginning to fall asleep one by one. Shin-ah had taken the first watch, staring through the wall and around with solemn determination to stay awake, Ao nestled in the folds of his cloak. Kija had already fallen deeply asleep a little way off; someone had laid Shin-ah’s fur around his shoulders, tucked in carefully under his chin. Argila too was curled up in his cloak with two cats, though he was not asleep, his eyes wide and watchful. Jae-ha was sitting with his legs hanging in the empty air on shelf of rock about halfway up the wall, idly stroking another of the cats, his eyes reflecting the last light of the fire; he stared almost unblinkingly at the embers, lost in though. Yoon and Hak, meanwhile, were speaking in soft voices with Vold and Tao, gathered around the lantern at the back of the cave.

And Zeno was held close in Yona’s arms as she slept. If before any of them had cared about separate sleeping tents, all such thoughts were now gone, swept aside by necessity and the strength of the bonds that had grown between them. So Zeno slept beside Yona tonight, wrapped in her arms with a blanket over both of them.

And to his surprise, despite everything, he felt, in that moment, _safe_. The safest he had felt in uncounted years, all his centuries of loneliness suddenly weighing a little less heavily on his heart.

Yona was tense though, her whole body rigid. After a moment she spoke, very quietly.

“Zeno?”

“Hmm? The Miss is still awake?”

“Zeno…” he felt her heart beating, a nervous rhythm, through the contact between their bodies. “Promise me… promise me you’ll try to keep yourself safe.”

“Zeno always does!”

“But…” Yona cast around for the right word. “You keep getting hurt. You keep suffering.”

He sighed. “That’s what it is to be Ouryuu.”

“But…” she took a deep breath. “ Zeno, I don’t believe it _has_ to be, all the time. I am becoming stronger, and I can protect you!”

His breath caught in his throat at the sound of the words, but even so he smiled. “Miss” he said. “How about we protect each other?”

Yona laughed tearily. “Yes” she said, nodding. “Yes, let’s try to do that.”


End file.
